Reckoning
by star wars for Jesus
Summary: Fleeing from Imperial forces, Ahsoka Tano and Obi-Wan Kenobi discover the possible identity of one of Vader's Inquisitors.


_For every shadow_

_ That swallows, drinks_

_ You in whole, there_

_ Are others. And they _

_ Loom large, towering_

_ Over the innocent like_

_ The army they_

_ Are. The army of deepest_

_ Void, where behind_

_ The Seen lie thousands_

_ More._

Blaster bolts streaking around us a like a red, bursting world, Kenobi and I fly through Sundari's streets. We burn over ground, boots hammering loud, loud, loud, invisible flames licking our robes; we soar, rise above glass towers. Whirl and snake up them their liquid-solid carapace, twin dragonsnakes and a deadweight dancing toward the ashen horizon. Launch off again, plummeting to ground with the force slowing us like ebony, demon wings, and once more hammer-light-burn the glass beneath our boots.

But even nebulas burn out, eat through all stardust till only cold, icy space is left. And we—we are there. _Here_, lungs shrieking from effort, legs elastic and begging to fall.

I motion Kenobi into an alley, picking my way over dank garbage and grunge before I let myself stop. Refuel, if only for a split second. Relight.

"You said your base wasn't much further," gasps Kenobi, relighting a few feet away.

Nodding, I hungrily gulp in more air, and sag against the grungy alley wall. So does Kenobi. But he's worse-off than I am, and not just because he's still toting Korkie's deadweight; the Inquisitor's strangle-hold, though brief, has left a gruesome mark. Mauve spreads across his throat, dead blood sinking deep, deep into tissue, its inky wave quickly spreading. Only his screaming veins pierce the livid ocean, their roads and pathways mingling serpentine, creating nettled web of moonless indigo.

I let out a sigh, the air quietly wheezing out of my still-struggling lungs. "I don't think it'd really make a difference, master. Either we've lost them, or they've given up—but whatever way you look at it, they aren't after us. For now, at least." I gesture toward his fuchsia curtain spreading his throat. "And besides, I don't think you can go much further with an injury like that. There might be some internal damage underneath, for all we know."

"And from what I know, I'm no one's 'master'. Not anymore." He rests Korkie against the space of wall between us, gently settling the teen's head to it. "The Order…well, I'm sure you heard the news, didn't you?"

I purse my lips, run my tongue over the mahogany silk. Heard it? No, it was more than that, my memory sinking below crimson tides and soundless noise. I…felt it. Had it wash over me, plunge me into an ocean endless, dark, and had to fight long and hard before my head once again broke surface. Shattered the imminent death, let me take in a few, sputtering breaths as I gaze out on a shapeless world. "And Anakin?"

His eyes go distant, run to a place far, far away. "Who has that man, Ahsoka? The one who force-choked me."

"He's Vader's Inquisitor, sent to hunt me down after a clone squadron failed to get the job done. I escape them on Cercan, of all places…" I shake my head, purging it of the lingering images of that dead, blackened world that we killed, murdered all those years ago. "But you didn't answer my question. Be straight with me, Obi-Wan: _what happened to my master_?"

The eyes return from the distant place, the far-away shore where his irises are sad, sad oceans. And that's what they are here, too. They're waves, swelling with salty tides, rivers of emotion that look like they're going to be freed soon. "Ahsoka…"

I search the welling iris-oceans. "He's dead, isn't he? Killed by the Empire, done in by his clones, like all those other Jedi?"

Head dropping to chest, he looks away. Thinks I can longer see the iris-tides, their waves crashing and rising and crashing again, but I can. I can see it all. Watch the waves soar high, white crest devouring all else in a thundering crescendo. "Ahsoka, he's—"

A sudden, insistent _bleeping_ cuts him off, the sound chiming loudly from within my robes. It's my comm.-link, its face pulsing with emerald light, and its begging to be used. To be answered, so I pluck the thing out, pressing my thumb to the _talk_ button with an inward sigh. "Tano."

"_It's me, Lux. Bo-Katan and Sau are asking where are...you're not still in Cercan, are you? Vader cronies are having a hay-day there, I heard."_

At the sound of his crisp, polished tones, I indulge in a tiny, bright smile. Lux and I aren't official or anything, like most of the Rebels think; Stila's death, that fierce blow even the stars reeled under, still looms close. But we're nearly there, have almost broke surface and emerged to glorious day, and when we finally do I'll drink in the sun for all it's worth. After all, the galaxy doesn't loan you much time under its golden caress before it steals you away, wrapping you in night eternal. _Infernal_, if you never held truth.

And Obi-Wan's reacting, too—just not to _that_. As soon as Bo-Katan's name issues out of my comm, he goes stock-still, eyes locked to mine. Gone are the pain-oceans, the clear-blue tide that had threatened to spill; instead I'm gazing back at ice, at a river forever suspended in its meandering journey. And it knifes me. "Bo-Katan is _here_…as one of your _allies?_"

Lux's voice drowns in crackling static, then returns with jarring clarity. "_Ahsoka, who in blazes _is _that?"_

Covering the mouthpiece for a moment, I cock a brow and hiss, "what should I say?"

But he's shaking his head, gently brushing my hand aside. "I'm Ben, and I'm here as a friend. For Bo-Katan."

My raised brow climbs higher up my forehead. "You know Bo—"

"_Bo-Katan says she went offworld to recruit you to our cause or something. Is that true, Ben?" _Another burst of static. _"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you gave me a last name…?"_

Kenobi hesitates from a beat, bites his lip. "Kenobi. Ben Kenobi, and you didn't answer my previous question: is Bo-Katan your ally?"

I clear my throat. "She is, as of a few weeks ago. But she hasn't been to our base in Sundari for a while. Quite a while, at that; I don't think she's set foot on Mandalore since the Republic invaded." Sparing a glance at Korkie's unconscious form, I add, "When it _was_ a Republic, anyway…"

"_Yeah. What she said._" Lux inhales deep, blows out hard and shaky. "_And I suppose if Bo-Katan trusted you enough to go hunting for you in…well, who-knows-where, then you've earned my trust as well. Make sure Ahsoka gets you to our base in one piece, okay?"_

"I'll try my best to keep him alive," I reply wryly, then break the connection with a tap of my thumb.

Except Kenobi's mind still appears to be hovering in the conversation, his ice-river-irises pouring into mine. Freezing me, working inside to dead, dead places and making them deader still. Suspending my thoughts, tossing them into the river, the whiteness that's somehow blackness. That's somehow absent of light but sears me through with it.

In a deader voice he hisses, "You can't trust her, Ahsoka."

Wincing as I push to my feet, I send him a questioning look. "Who?"

"Bo-Katan. She tried to drug me, slipped something in my drink."

"Did you drink it?"

He looks away, shifts. "Actually, no. She did."

My brow rockets up my forehead. "_She_ did? So you're saying she slipped something in your drink—but she drank it? Or did she slip something into her own glass?"

"I think there was something already in the drink, actually," he answers.

"A mix-up, then?"

"Well…come to think of it, no. She ordered something weaker for herself, something harder for me."

"So she should've been able to tell the difference."

"Most likely, yes." He runs a hand over his beard, then adds, "and if that's true, than she must've knowingly taken it. Because…"

"…She knew the drink was spiked," I finish, teeth flashing white behind my lips. "So either she sabotaged her own handiwork, or she knew when she arrived that something was going down. That someone was planning on drugging you or something."

Wincing, Kenobi pushes to his feet. Hoists Korkie over his shoulder, the boy's flaccid limbs overhanging his back, and bites his lip again. Sends a tiny, scarlet non-ice-river trickling down, down, down to auburn beard. Wipes it away. "This Inquisitor…is he the only one of his kind? Or does Vader have a whole handful of them at his disposal?"

I shrug. "As far as I know, they're an elite group—but I do know for a fact that Vader has sent others after us before. In fact, Bo-Katan was in pursuit of one a week or so ago, before she arrived in Sundari."

Kenobi's ice-river-irises turn on me, thawing and smoldering and wanting to refreeze. "Do you have any idea what species this particular Inquisitor was?"

"According to what I've heard, the Inquistor was Twi'Lek, female, and had last been seen traveling through Hutt space."

"Hutt space…" He frowns, ice returning. "She wasn't spotted near Tattoine, was she?"

Another shrug. "Maybe. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think she might be the one who tried to drug me."

_ John 8:44: "You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father's desire. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies."_


End file.
